If I Die Young
by UnsungStranger
Summary: Set towards the end of the war. Very OOC, because - let's be honest - Dramione is not in character ever. Rated M for Mature themes. There was no romance. There was no tender words of love. There was raw, unadulterated passion. Anger and grief and heat.


**A/N: Hello, and welcome to my first fic! Well, my first fic that I've finished and posted. I have a whole folder dedicated to my unfinished fics. This is pretty depressing and there are scenes of mature nature, though I don't going into much detail. The idea just kind of popped into my head while I was listening to If I Die Young by The Band Perry. I generally read Drarry fics, but as of late I've been leaning into more Dramione. This is completely un-beta'd, as well. Well, I hope you enjoy it!**

The end was near, obviously. She wasn't sure if she could survive. After Ronald had abandoned them she felt as if half of her heart had gone with him, leaving her a shell of what she once was. When she and Harry returned to Hogwarts, she found from Ginny that he had been murdered, causing the other half of her heart to shatter. Harry had taken it the hardest because of the last words they had said to each other and, of course, because Harry blamed himself for every death in this war.

She had managed to get into the Chamber of Secrets and destroy the Cup. They had managed to get out of the Room of Requirements and destroy the Diadem, saving Malfoy and Goyle. They had witnessed Professor Snape's death, and Harry was in Dumbledore's office living through his memories. She felt useless.

She couldn't go with him to relive the Half-Blood Prince's deepest memories. She couldn't stay in the Great Hall with all of her dead friends. She couldn't look at George's face as he lay sprawled over Fred's body or watch Parvarti's hysterics over Lavender's. She couldn't be in the room with all of that pain because she had no tears left to cry. There was no emotion left in her. She was an empty casing that used to be Hermione Granger.

She kicked some rubble away from the stairs, trying to remember if she'd ever heard her school so eerily quiet. There was silence everywhere she turned, and she strained her ears to hear anything.

A short ways away from her, Draco Malfoy watched the broken witch, trying to figure out how she was still standing. She didn't look like she should be. Her normally bushy mane was knotted and weighed down with the grime that came from survival. Her clothes were ripped and stained with soot and dust and a dark brown liquid that he could only imagine was drying blood. Her face was nearly black from the smoke of the Fiendfyre, with visible tracks from where tears had fallen from her eyes. Her eyes were the hardest part of her appearance for him to notice. The fire that he stoked throughout their childhood was diminished, not even a fading out coal left in them. They looked empty, soulless even, and if he wasn't absolutely positive that she hadn't been, he would say she had been Kissed.

He took an unwitting step towards her, the sound echoing harshly in the quiet. He watched her spin drawing her wand and fixedly pointed it at his chest. She mentally berated herself. How could she have stood here shuffling around aimlessly and wallowing? There was a war going on. How could she let her defenses down long enough to let this cockroach sneak up on her?

"One move, Malfoy," she said, her words unwavering and empty. "One. Move. And I will kill you where you stand."

Then he saw it. The small glowing coal in her eyes. He raised his hands in a surrendering position. He wasn't stupid enough to step forward again, but he slowly moved to his wand. He saw a spell on the tip of her tongue, and then he did the unthinkable.

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes as she watched Malfoy grip the wand he was using and toss it in her direction. She stared at it, confused, as it landed at her feet with a soft thwack. She flicked her eyes up at him and saw him still standing there with figurative white flag waving. Slowly, she lowered her wand, but didn't put it away.

"What do you want?" Her hollow voice held a faint hint of curiosity, completely unnoticeable to anyone who didn't know her. Oh, but Draco Malfoy knew her. He knew the fire in her that would cause anyone to burn, should she wish them to. He knew the way she moved and laughed and fought. He knew how much she cared for every single life from house elf to human. Yes, Draco Malfoy knew Hermione Granger better than he knew himself.

"Thank you," he muttered, barely above a whisper. He dropped to his knees and his head drooped to his chest. "You're so brave, and yet you saved a coward's life. Thank you." He didn't look up as he heard her moving towards him. He didn't want her to see the tears flowing freely and unrelenting from his eyes. He was a fool.

Hermione couldn't believe what she was seeing. This wasn't the sneering little boy that called her Mudblood and tormented her; teased her. This wasn't the little boy that she had grown up around. This was a terrified man, mentally - and probably physically - tortured for loving his parents. She could hear his panic lacing his words. She could see his tears falling down his face.

She was wrong. She thought she had no heart left, but it was there, clenching tightly with the empathy she felt for him. She couldn't stand to see her childhood tormentor so broken. Yet, weren't they all a little broken at this point?

"Come on," she whispered, holding her hand for him to take.

They walked hand in hand through the silent halls of Hogwarts, unable to dredge up memories of their time as students because of the debris littered through the castle. Silently, they made their way up to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione slightly unsure of how they'd get in because she didn't know the password.

When they reached the Seventh Floor corridor, the thought of being unable to enter her prior home caused her to stop and slightly chuckle. Her chuckle turned into a giggle, which turned into full blown, gut-wrenching laughter echoing in the halls. Draco stared at her in confusion.

"I...don't," She tried, but the hysterical laughter kept pouring out of her interrupting her words. "I don't know...the password. I can't get into the Common Room!" Draco watched, horrified, as her laughter morphed seamlessly into grief. Tears falling down her face. He saw her become this broken thing and his heart cracked as she collapsed to the floor at his feet.

He dropped in front of her and did the one thing that he wished someone would do for him. Grabbing her under the arms, he pulled her into his lap and held her. He didn't say a word as she rambled about Ron and her parents and her friends and how she couldn't do 'this'. She babbled about how her life was supposed to be versus what it has turned into. He let her cry and grieve and he just held her. Slowly her shuddering stopped, and it could have taken anywhere from ten seconds to ten hours for all he could tell.

She stayed on his lap, feeling as broken as she seemed. "Ron and I used to talk about the future. He used to tell me that he loved me, and that he could see us having a family someday, after the war was done." Draco felt her drag a ragged breath in, but he stayed silent letting her disclose whatever it was she needed to; it was the least he could do after all she had done for him and all of man-kind. "He used to hold me at night in the tent and tell me about how special it would be when we made love for the first time." She barked out a harsh laugh that had nothing to do with humor. "Well, it looks like I'll be dying a virgin!"

"You're not going to die a virgin," Draco whispered against her head. "You're going to help Harry win this war, and then you're going to fall in love with some lucky bloke, and you're going to get married and raise an army of children. Then years later, when you're old and wrinkly, lying in bed next to that bloke you fell in love with, you're going to die peacefully, in your sleep. You, Hermione Granger, are going to have a wonderfully long and fulfilling life. Do you hear me?" During his declaration his voice had raised, along with Hermione's head. He shook her slightly staring into her eyes. "Do you hear me, Hermione. You're going to live a long life with someone who loves you by your side."

She didn't know who she was talking to at the moment, but she definitely couldn't be sure that it was Draco Malfoy. Everything was so different now. This man that held her through her break down was the most changed. She placed the tips of her fingers on his jaw, running them slowly over the stubble there, and stared. _'Well,'_ she thought. ' _If he can change, so can I.'_

Without anymore thought she brought her lips to his, unwilling to let him push her away. Though, pushing her away wasn't even an inkling of a thought. His shock kept him immobile, unresponsive. He knew she couldn't feel for him, and that this was purely out of desperation, and yet...he had admitted to himself when he saw her in the shattered remains of the Entrance Hall that he would do anything to help her. If anything included letting her forget her grief through this then, well, he would do it.

He moved his lips against hers and slid his arms tighter around her. Slowly, he ran his tongue over her pliant lips and they opened for him. He would do this. He would help her to forget everything, even if it was just for a moment. He would give her what she needed. As their tongues wound together, they removed clothing, and as each article fell away their inhibitions fell away with them.

There was no romance. There was no tender words of love. There was raw, unadulterated passion. Anger and grief and heat. Draco's fingers found her warm center, the digits helped the destruction of her world fall away. He caused her to pant and whimper as she moved against his hand, unknown feelings happening. There was a tightening in her stomach and with another curl of his fingers she released, a hoarse shout ripped from her throat.

Draco didn't let her calm down. He entered her swiftly, watching a pain of a different kind flit over her features, and waited. He knew she would move when she was ready, and move she did. She rolled her hips over his, making his head fall back as he moved with her.

They worked together, climbing to the end they both needed. Their sounds echoed in the empty halls, neither afraid of passersby or the repercussions of their acts. As they reached their zenith, they both knew they would never go back to being the people they were before.

They stayed wrapped around each other for a moment, letting their breaths return to a normal rate. As they untangled themselves from each other, there were no words left. They dressed slowly, both parties unwilling to let reality hit them.

"If we both survive this war," Hermione said as she turned and began walking back towards the Entrance Hall. "Come find me."

 **A/N: I've noticed a bunch of times from reading other reviews of stories that people like to say "Update!" or "Please do another chapter!" And while flattering as that may be, it's not likely that I will ever add onto this piece. It's just a short little bit about grief and very out of character indeed. Well, I hope that you enjoyed it. Tootle-loo.**


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